Tag: Leadership

  • Rethinking Leadership Development in Higher Ed (opinion)

    Rethinking Leadership Development in Higher Ed (opinion)

    Higher education is in the midst of a crisis of confidence that has long been building. In this time of volatility, complexity and uncertainty, the steady hand of leaders matters more than ever. Yet academia does—at best—a very uneven job of preparing academic leaders for steady-state leadership, much less for times when the paradigm is shifting. This moment is creating an opportunity to reconsider how we prepare leaders for what will come next.

    Why Is Leadership So Uneven in Higher Ed?

    A primary reason lies in how we select and develop leaders. In academia, searches for department chair, dean and provost often emphasize top-level scholarly and research credentials and only secondarily consider an individual’s experience, perspective and ability to influence and motivate others to support shared missions. Academics in general do not respond well to directives: They expect to be persuaded, not commanded. Additionally, it is often only after being hired that those in formal positions of authority are provided with leadership-development opportunities to help foster those interpersonal skills—too late for foundational growth.

    These approaches to recruiting formal leaders are rooted in flawed assumptions about how leadership works. True leadership is not about commanding compliance but about shaping unit culture through influence. Many leaders fail by not understanding the difference. An effective leader is a person of strong character who can build trusting relationships with others; these skills take time to develop and usually take root even before a person assumes a leadership role.

    Another important reason that leadership in higher ed is uneven arises from conceptualizing leadership as a “heroic” individual endeavor. The same skills that help a formal leader to be successful—such as understanding the alignment of their actions with the unit’s mission; strong communication skills, including listening; the ability to navigate conflict, negotiation and conflict resolution; and formulating and articulating clear collective goals— are equally crucial for others to exercise to be fully engaged participants.

    Leaders with formal roles and titles play a crucial role in promoting a productive and collegial culture. At the same time, they do not do so alone: It is equally important that participants who are not in formal administrative roles are also seen (and see themselves) as central in shaping these environments, and that they are aware of how their own actions and interpersonal dynamics contribute to their working and learning experiences.

    In short, leadership responsibility is not limited to administrators. There are layers of formal leadership roles embedded inside departments and schools, visible whenever faculty members and staff take on responsibilities for shared governance and advisory roles; lead team research or manage grant portfolios; and select (hire), supervise, evaluate and mentor colleagues and other early-career individuals. These faculty and staff are leaders, too, whether or not they see, accept or internalize those roles.

    When leadership is viewed simply as an individual attribute rather than a process that emerges from the relationships among people in teams, organizations miss the opportunity to develop cultures of excellence that support integrity, trust and collaboration at all levels. Thus, we argue that leadership ought to be understood as an ongoing process of character development and a responsibility shared by all members of an organization—not something that can be addressed in a one-off workshop, but as an integral dimension of the work.

    The Foundations of Leadership: Influence Before Authority

    Rather than framing leadership as something only people with formal authority do, a more productive model is to view leadership as influence. By influence we mean modeling the behaviors we seek to share and promote in our groups so that we can better shape the way we solve problems collectively. Leadership is not in essence a position; it is contributing to an ongoing process of shaping culture, norms and behavior within a unit.

    Social psychology shows that we influence each other constantly. The more time we spend with people, the more we become like them and vice versa. This means that bad habits can spread as easily as good ones. When everyone is given an opportunity to develop good habits, they are more likely to spread throughout the community. Our character affects how we influence others. We are much more likely to be influenced by a person who demonstrates integrity and curiosity than we are by someone who is demanding and unwilling to listen.

    Here are some areas of practice for developing better influence:

    • Self-awareness and self-management: Focusing on oneself first helps individuals identify their strengths and areas for growth, while encouraging them to recognize and respect their roles and responsibilities in the current situation. Understanding oneself, one’s values, habits and motivations, is foundational to recognizing how we affect and are affected by those around us.
    • Conflict resolution: Healthy debate is foundational to innovation and growth. Developing strong conflict-resolution skills contributes to increased perspective-taking, depersonalizing disagreement and yielding more effective discussion and problem solving.
    • Decision-making: Understanding how we make decisions, and more importantly how heuristics influence and bias our decision-making, can help people slow down to make more ethical and effective decisions.

    Opportunities for influence are available to everyone, not just those in formal leadership roles. Early-career faculty, staff and students can cultivate influence by setting examples for collaboration, through ethical behavior and by contributing to collective problem-solving. Leadership is not centrally about having authority over others; it is about shaping an environment in which ethical decision-making, respect and shared purpose flourish.

    Reimagining Leader Development in Higher Ed

    Now more than ever, individuals need support in managing their careers with integrity and purpose—aligning their personal values and goals with those of their institutions. Leadership development should not be viewed as a costly add-on. In fact, it can be integrated into the everyday fabric of academic life through accessible and scalable methods, including:

    • Peer-learning cohorts that provide space for discussion and reflection on leadership challenges.
    • Guided personal reflections on workplace dynamics, communication and decision-making.
    • Structured mentoring programs that cultivate leadership skills through real-world interactions.
    • Deliberative conversations around such themes as research ethics, authorship and collaboration to build trust and integrity within teams.
    • Conflict-resolution training embedded in routine professional development activities.

    Our experience at the National Center for Principled Leadership and Research Ethics shows that even modest efforts—like those above—can spark essential conversations between mentors and mentees, improve communication, and positively influence both unit climate and individual well-being. To support this work, we offer a free Leadership Collection—an online collection of tools, readings and practical exercises for anyone seeking to lead more effectively, regardless of their title or career stage.

    When leadership development is embraced as a core part of academic life—not just a formal program or a luxury for a few—it can become a catalyst for healthier, more purpose-driven institutions.

    Conclusion: Leadership Development as a Cultural Foundation

    Reserving leadership-development programming only for when people reach formal leadership roles is a missed opportunity to develop broader and more inclusive working cultures. Such cultures emerge from the relationships among the members of a group. Building better relationships starts with personal growth, self-awareness and emotional intelligence for each member. Taking responsibility for one’s own professional growth and for one’s influence on others is also an important kind of leadership.

    True leadership, therefore, is not about directing others but about fostering environments in which good habits, strong ethics and meaningful engagement flourish. If universities want to build sustainable cultures of excellence, in which leadership is no longer an individual endeavor but a shared commitment to collaboration, they should start embedding it in professional development and routine practice for all. As uncertainty prevails, budgets are cut and people are navigating deep change, now is the moment to reconsider how we shape leaders in higher education.

    Elizabeth A. Luckman is a clinical associate professor of business administration with an emphasis in organizational behavior and director of leadership programs at the National Center for Principled Leadership and Research Ethics at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

    C. K. Gunsalus is the director of NCPRE, professor emerita of business and research professor at the Grainger College of Engineering’s Coordinated Sciences Laboratory at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

    Nicholas C. Burbules is the education director of NCPRE and Gutgsell Professor Emeritus in the Department of Education Policy, Organization and Leadership at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

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  • Do screens help or hurt K-8 learning? Lessons from the UK’s OPAL program

    Do screens help or hurt K-8 learning? Lessons from the UK’s OPAL program

    Key points:

    When our leadership team at Firthmoor Primary met with an OPAL (Outdoor Play and Learning) representative, one message came through clearly: “Play isn’t a break from learning, it is learning.”

    As she flipped through slides, we saw examples from other schools where playgrounds were transformed into hubs of creativity. There were “play stations” where children could build, imagine, and collaborate. One that stood out for me was the simple addition of a music station, where children could dance to songs during break time, turning recess into an outlet for joy, self-expression, and community.

    The OPAL program is not about giving children “more time off.” It’s about making play purposeful, inclusive, and developmental. At Firthmoor, our head teacher has made OPAL part of the long-term school plan, ensuring that playtime builds creativity, resilience, and social skills just as much as lessons in the classroom.

    After seeing these OPAL examples, I couldn’t help but think about how different this vision is from what dominates the conversation in so many schools: technology. While OPAL emphasizes unstructured play, movement, and creativity, most education systems, both in the UK and abroad, are under pressure to adopt more edtech. The argument is that early access to screens helps children personalize their learning, build digital fluency, and prepare for a future where tech skills are essential.

    But what happens when those two philosophies collide?

    On one side, programs like OPAL remind us that children need hands-on experiences, imagination, and social connection–skills that can’t be replaced by a tablet. On the other, schools around the world are racing to keep pace with the digital age.

    Even in Silicon Valley, where tech innovation is born, schools like the Waldorf School of the Peninsula have chosen to go screen-free in early years. Their reasoning echoes OPAL’s ethos: Creativity and deep human interaction lay stronger cognitive and emotional foundations than any app can provide.

    Research supports this caution. The Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health advises parents and schools to carefully balance screen use with physical activity, sleep, and family interaction. And in 2023, UNESCO warned that “not all edtech improves learning outcomes, and some displace play and social interaction.” Similarly, the OECD’s 2021 report found that heavy screen use among 10-year-olds correlated with lower well-being scores, highlighting the risks of relying too heavily on devices in the early years.

    As a governor, I see both sides: the enthusiasm for digital tools that promise engagement and efficiency, and the concern for children’s well-being and readiness for lifelong learning. OPAL has made me think about what kind of foundations we want to lay before layering on technology.

    So where does this leave us? For me, the OPAL initiative at Firthmoor is a powerful reminder that education doesn’t have to be an either/or choice between tech and tradition. The real challenge is balance.

    This raises important questions for all of us in education:

    • When is the right time to introduce technology?
    • How do we balance digital fluency with the need for deep, human-centered learning?
    • Where do we draw the line between screens and play, and who gets to decide?

    This is a conversation not just for educators, but for parents, policymakers, and communities. How do we want the next generation to learn, play, and thrive?

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  • A shuttered government was not the lesson I hoped my Texas students would learn on a trip to Washington D.C

    A shuttered government was not the lesson I hoped my Texas students would learn on a trip to Washington D.C

    After decades serving in the Marine Corps and in education, I know firsthand that servant leadership and diplomacy can and should be taught. That’s why I hoped to bring 32 high school seniors from Texas to Washington, D.C., this fall for a week of engagement and learning with top U.S. government and international leaders.  

    Instead of open doors, we faced a government shutdown and had to cancel our trip. 

    The shutdown impacts government employees, members of the military and their families who are serving overseas and all Americans who depend on government being open to serve us — in businesses, schools and national parks, and through air travel and the postal service.  

    Our trip was not going to be a typical rushed tour of monuments, but a highly selective, long-anticipated capstone experience. Our plans included intensive interaction with government leaders at the Naval Academy and the Pentagon, discussions at the State Department and a leadership panel with senators and congressmembers. Our students hoped to explore potential careers and even practice their Spanish and Mandarin skills at the Mexican and Chinese embassies.  

    The students not only missed out on the opportunity to connect with these leaders and make important connections for college and career, they learned what happens when leadership and diplomacy fail — a harsh reminder that we need to teach these skills, and the principles that support them, in our schools. 

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.  

    Senior members of the military know that the DIME framework — diplomatic, informational, military and economic — should guide and support strategic objectives, particularly on the international stage. My own time in the Corps taught me the essential role of honesty and trust in conversations, negotiations and diplomacy. In civic life, this approach preserves democracy, yet the government shutdown demonstrates what happens when the mission shifts from solving problems to scoring points.  

    Our elected leaders were tasked with a mission, and the continued shutdown shows a breakdown in key aspects of governance and public service. That’s the real teachable moment of this shutdown. Democracy works when leaders can disagree without disengaging; when they can argue, compromise and keep doors open. If our future leaders can’t practice those skills, shutdowns will become less an exception and more a way of governing. 

    Students from ILTexas, a charter network serving over 26,000 students across the state, got a lesson in failed diplomacy after the government shutdown forced cancellation of their long-planned trip to the nation’s capital. Credit: Courtesy International Leadership of Texas Charter Schools

    With opposing points of view, communication is essential. Bridging language is invaluable. As the adage goes, talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. Speak in his own language, that goes to his heart. That is why, starting in kindergarten, we teach every student in our charter school network English, Spanish and Mandarin Chinese.  

    Some of our graduates will become teachers, lawyers, doctors and entrepreneurs. Others will pursue careers in public service or navigate our democracy on the international stage. All will enter a world more fractured than the one I stepped into as a Marine. 

    While our leaders struggle to find common ground, studies show that nationally, only 22 percent of eighth graders are proficient in civics, and fewer than 20 percent of American students study a foreign language. My students are exceptions, preparing to lead in three languages and through servant leadership, a philosophy that turns a position of power into a daily practice of responsibility and care for others.  

    Related: COLUMN: Students want more civics education, but far too few schools teach it 

    While my students represent our ILTexas schools, they also know they are carrying something larger: the hopes of their families, communities and even their teenage peers across the country. Some hope to utilize their multilingual skills, motivated by a desire to help the international community. Others want to be a part of the next generation of diplomats and policy thinkers who are ready to face modern challenges head-on.  

    To help them, we build good habits into the school day. Silent hallways instill respect for others. Language instruction builds empathy and an international perspective. Community service requirements (60 hours per high school student) and projects, as well as dedicated leadership courses and optional participation in our Marine Corps JROTC program give students regular chances to practice purpose over privilege. 

    Educators should prepare young people for the challenges they will inherit, whether in Washington, in our communities or on the world stage. But schools can’t carry this responsibility alone. Students are watching all of us. It’s our duty to show them a better way. 

    We owe our young people more than simply a good education. We owe them a society in which they can see these civic lessons modeled by their elected leaders, and a path to put them into practice.  

    Eddie Conger is the founder and superintendent of International Leadership of Texas, a public charter school network serving more than 26,000 students across the state, and a retired U.S. Marine Corps major. 

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected].  

    This story about the government shutdown and students was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.  

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

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  • Neurodiverse leadership is a quality issue for universities, not a side project 

    Neurodiverse leadership is a quality issue for universities, not a side project 

    Author:
    Imran Mir

    Published:

    This guest blog was kindly authored by Imran Mir, Campus Head and Programme Lead, Apex College Leicester 

    Leadership in higher education is often measured by indicators such as retention rates, research outputs and league table positions. These are important, but leadership is far deeper than numbers. Growing up with autism and then becoming a leader in higher education has shaped how I approach leadership. Being neurodiverse means I see situations differently, notice patterns others may miss, and feel deep empathy with students and colleagues who are often invisible in our systems. 
     
    This is why neurodiverse leadership must be treated as a quality issue. Universities are rightly talking more about inclusive curriculum design and student support, but these conversations rarely extend to who sits at the decision-making table. Representation in leadership is not about tokenism. It is about ensuring the sector benefits from different ways of thinking, which is vital for quality, resilience and innovation.

    Why neurodiverse leadership matters

    According to the University of Edinburgh 2024, in the UK, one in seven people are neurodiverse. Advance HE 2024 report shows leadership teams in higher education remain overwhelmingly homogenous. This lack of representation is not just an issue of fairness, it is also a missed opportunity for innovation. Research by Deloitte 2017 shows that neurodiverse teams can be up to 30 per cent more productive in tasks requiring creativity and pattern recognition. Universities are currently facing challenges in relation to funding and digital disruption, and they will need this kind of productivity and resilience more than ever. 
     
    Further, Made By Dyslexia 2023 claims that one in five people are dyslexic, many of whom bring excellent problem-solving and communication skills. These strengths align with what is expected in leadership roles, where complex challenges and clear communication are requirements. Yet recruitment and promotion processes can often filter out people who think or communicate differently. 
     
    Austin & Pisano, 2017 adds that neurodiverse leaders frequently demonstrate empathy and adaptability. These qualities are imperative in higher education as institutions are trying their best to meet diverse student needs, respond to rapid change and rebuild trust in their systems. Without neurodiverse leadership, universities risk reinforcing the very barriers which they are trying to eradicate. 

    Lessons for higher education leaders

    From my own experience, I have learned three lessons that apply directly to leadership in higher education. 
     
    The first lesson is the power of clarity. Neurodiverse staff and students excel when expectations are clear. As a leader, I have seen first-hand that communicating with clarity in strategy documents, policies and day-to-day interactions builds trust in the academic institution. Research on organisational effectiveness suggests that clear communication consistently improves outcomes across diverse teams  
     
    The second lesson is valuing flexibility. Traditional recruitment, professional development and promotion systems seem to reward conformity. This is a missed opportunity because neurodiverse teams will bring innovation and productivity benefits. Strong leaders can change this by adopting flexible approaches such as task-based interviews, blended assessments that combine written, oral and practical elements, and CPD which takes into consideration various communication styles. 

    The third lesson is role modelling openness. For years I believed that revealing my autism would be seen as a weakness. In reality, sharing my story has made me a stronger leader. It has encouraged colleagues to be open about their own experiences and helped students feel less isolated. Austin & Pisano 2017 show that when leaders model vulnerability and authenticity, it strengthens organisational culture and increases trust across teams. 

    A quality issue, not a side project

    These lessons outline why neurodiverse leadership should not be viewed as a side project. Quality frameworks such as the Office for Students’ conditions and the QAA Quality Code are built on assumptions of fairness, reliability and inclusivity. If leadership itself is not inclusive, then the credibility of these frameworks is undermined. If the voices of the one-in-seven neurodiverse people are not present in leadership, then universities are failing to reflect the diversity of the communities they are trying to serve.  
     
    Neurodiverse leadership will strengthen governance, enhances decision-making and ensures policies reflect the diversity of the student body. It is a direct contributor to educational quality, not an optional extra.

    Conclusion

    As someone working in higher education, I know these lessons are transferable across the sector. But they feel especially urgent now, as universities face funding pressures, digital disruption and growing student expectations. In such times, leaders who think differently are not optional. They are essential. 
     
    Neurodiverse leadership is not about meeting quotas. It is about strengthening quality. The sector cannot afford to waste talent or exclude perspectives that could help it adapt and thrive. If universities want to remain resilient, they must recognise that diversity of thought at the leadership table is just as important as diversity in the classroom. At its heart, this is about shaping the future of higher education in a way that is inclusive, innovative and sustainable. 

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  • Transparency and truth in communications

    Transparency and truth in communications

    Key points:

    Dear Superintendent,

    Your job now requires a new level of transparency that you are reluctant to provide. This media crisis will burn for several more days if we sit silent. We are in a true leadership moment and I need you to listen to your communications expert. I can make your job easier and more successful.

    Signed,

    Your Communications Director

    As superintendents come under more political fire and frequent negative news stories about their school districts circulate, it is easy to see where the instinct to not comment and just focus on the work might kick in. However, the path forward requires a new level of transparency and truth-telling in communications. In fact, the work requires you to get out in front so that your teachers and staff can focus on their work.

    I recently spoke with a school district facing multiple PR crises. The superintendent was reluctant to address the issues publicly, preferring one-on-one meetings with parents over engaging with the media or holding town hall-style parent meetings. But when serious allegations of employee misconduct and the resulting community concerns arise, it’s crucial for superintendents to step forward and take control of the narrative.

    While the details of ongoing human resources or police investigations cannot be discussed, it’s vital to inform the community about actions being taken to prevent future incidents, the safeguards being implemented, and your unwavering commitment to student and staff safety. All of that is far more reassuring than the media reporting, “The district was not available for comment,” “The district cannot comment due to an ongoing investigation,” or even worse, the dreaded, “The school district said it has no comment.”

    Building trust with proactive communication

    A district statement or email doesn’t carry the same weight as a media interview or an in-house video message sent directly to community members. True leadership means standing up and accepting the difficult interviews, answering the tough questions, and conveying with authentic emotion that these incidents are unacceptable. What a community needs to hear is the “why” behind a decision so that trust is built, even if that decision is to hold back on key information. A lack of public statement can be perceived as indifference or a leadership void, which can quickly threaten a superintendent’s career.

    Superintendents should always engage with the media during true leadership moments, such as district-wide safety issues, school board meetings, or when the public needs reassurance. “Who Speaks For Your Brand?” looks at a survey of 1,600 school staff who resoundingly stated that the superintendent is the primary person responsible for promoting and defending a school district’s brand. A majority of the superintendents surveyed agreed as well. Promoting and defending the district’s brand includes the negative–but also the positive–opportunities like the first day of school, graduation, school and district grade releases, and district awards.

    However, not every media request requires the superintendent’s direct involvement. If it doesn’t rise to the severity level worthy of the superintendent’s office, an interview with a department head or communications chief is a better option. The superintendent interview is reserved for the stories we decide require it, not just because a reporter asks for it.  Reporters ask for you far more than your communications chief ever tells you.

    It is essential to communicate directly and regularly with parents through video and email using your district’s mass communication tools. You control the message you want to deliver, and you don’t have to rely on the media getting it right.  This is an amazing opportunity to humanize the office.  Infuse your video scripts with more personality and emotion to connect on a personal level with your community. It is far harder to attack the person than the office. Proactive communications help build trust for when you need it later.

    I have had superintendents tell me that they prefer to make their comments at school board meetings. School board meeting comments are often insufficient, as analytics often indicate low viewership for school board meeting live streams or recordings.  In my experience, a message sent to parents through district alert channels far outperforms the YouTube views of school board meetings.

    Humanizing the superintendent’s role

    Superintendents should maintain a consistent communications presence via social media, newsletters, the website, and so on to demonstrate their engagement within schools. Short videos featuring interactions with staff and students create powerful engagement opportunities. Develop content to create touch points that celebrate the contributions of nurses, teachers, and bus drivers, especially on their national days of recognition. These proactive moments of engagement show the community that positive moments happen hourly, daily, and weekly within your schools.

    If you are not comfortable posting your own content, have your communications team ghostwrite posts for you. You never want a community member asking, “What does the superintendent do all day? We never see them.” If you are posting content from all of the school visits and community meetings you attend, that accusation can never be made again. You now have social proof of your engagement efforts and evidence for your annual contract review.

    Effective communication is a superintendent’s superpower. Those who can connect authentically and show their personality can truly shine. Many superintendents mistakenly believe that hard work alone will speak for itself, but in today’s politically charged landscape, a certain amount of “campaigning” is necessary while in office. We all know the job of the superintendent has never been harder, tenure has never been shorter, and the chance of being fired is higher than ever.

    Embrace the opportunity to engage and showcase the great things happening in your district. It’s worth promoting positive and proactive communications so that you’re a seasoned pro when the challenging moments come. There might just be less of them if you get ahead.

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  • IVF and the Leadership Gap for Women (opinion)

    IVF and the Leadership Gap for Women (opinion)

    After a 20-year career in higher education, including roles as a chief academic officer and faculty member, I left to have a child. I was one step away from a presidency on the higher ed career ladder, and in fact I had written my dissertation on what gets in the way of women moving into college presidencies. Yet it was not until I finally met my life partner and had the opportunity, in my 40s, to start a family that I understood how fully the higher ed career deck is still stacked against those seeking to have children, and especially those seeking to have children in nontraditional ways—largely women, LGBTQIA+ folks and anyone facing a difficult pregnancy, in vitro fertilization, adoption or fostering process.

    In the United States, 2.6 percent of all births—95,860 babies in 2023—result from IVF, a time-consuming, costly and physically and emotionally challenging process. The percentage for women academics may be even higher, given their relatively high education levels, socioeconomic status and pressure to delay childbearing for academic careers. According to Pew, 56 percent of people with graduate degrees have gone through or know someone who has undergone IVF or other assisted reproduction.

    The literature has well documented how the academy has been created by men and is designed to fit their needs and their bodies. Women who have sought professorships or academic leadership positions have, historically, needed to conform to rules written for men’s life cycles. Articles such as Carmen Armenti’s classic “May Babies and Posttenure Babies” speak to women’s attempts to give birth at the end of the academic year and after earning tenure. The tenure clock illustrates this issue well—the usual seven years in which a newly hired assistant professor has time to sufficiently publish and obtain tenure largely coincide with women’s most fertile years. Many forward-thinking institutions such as the University of California system have been addressing this issue by stopping the tenure clock for childbirth and related family formation. It is a step in the right direction that all colleges and universities should consider.

    But what happens when the usual challenges of pregnancy and childbirth are compounded by infertility, miscarriage and the sometimes years-long process of IVF?

    I met my husband during the pandemic, and we married the next year. Both of us in our 40s and having always wanted a child but neither having met the right partner, we quickly found ourselves going down the IVF route. At the time, I had completed a one-year executive interim role and was on the job hunt and doing part-time remote teaching, and this situation proved fortuitous.

    I had no idea how grueling the IVF process would be—multiple rounds of more than a month at a time of hormone pills; nightly self-administered injections for weeks on end; weekly doctor visits, blood draws and ultrasounds—and at the end of each round, a day surgery under anesthesia to retrieve eggs. Several iterations of this, followed by more of a similar process to prepare the body for embryo transfer. The journey is physically and emotionally exhausting, time-consuming, and logistically challenging. It can also be incredibly expensive, with the medications and surgeries costing into the tens of thousands for those whose health insurance does not cover it.

    My husband and I had a number of factors helping us on this journey. We had built a supportive network of family and friends. We were fortunate that I was less sick than many women are on these medications. Finally, we were privileged to have insurance (through my husband’s job, which is not in higher ed) that paid for the majority of our treatments. Due to working part-time and remotely, I had the flexibility I needed to take naps, wear comfortable clothes that fit my bloated belly without having to reveal my family-forming status to anyone at work and generally have the privacy I needed during a challenging time.

    Other women who work full-time in-person during this process navigate a daunting gauntlet of frequent doctor appointments, exhaustion and sickness at work, while trying to hide a body that can look pregnant before it is. Not to mention that few people fully understand the process, and telling a little can lead you down an uncomfortable path of revealing a lot. Because everything is timed to the menstrual cycle, seemingly innocent questions inevitably lead to awkward conversations. It’s therefore hard to share what you’re going through or ask for support at work at the time you need it most.

    And then there are the chemical pregnancies and miscarriages that can happen, and did for us. Grieving for both parents is exacerbated by the isolation and privacy of the whole process. Some companies and higher ed institutions, such as Tufts University in Massachusetts, now offer bereavement leave for miscarriage, something that happens in 10 to 20 percent of pregnancies but is still rarely talked about. All institutions throughout higher ed should offer similar leave.

    During this journey, I was also interviewing for full-time jobs, and I was hired into a senior leadership position. My husband and I were taking a break from the exhausting process at that point and the opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime, and so we picked up and moved two states away. My husband’s job had gone remote, giving us the flexibility we needed for my career. We wagered that if I stayed in a part-time role too much longer, it would be increasingly difficult to climb back into a full-time position. The stigma around a résumé gap is alive and well in higher education, with little understanding that this gap often reflects people’s (frequently women’s) time away for family and other care-taking needs, rather than their work experience or abilities. Yet, even when I’ve tried to explain to search committees that I’ve led how discriminatory it can be to overly focus on résumé gaps, faculty and staff often have looked askance at me. This is something else that needs to change.

    My husband and I waited almost a year before doing our next embryo transfer. I settled into the job, we settled into our home, we finally had a post-COVID celebration of our marriage. And then I was pregnant! Sadly, I miscarried again toward the end of my first trimester. I powered through at work, serving as a chief academic officer and supervising 200 people while trying to juggle meds, doctor’s appointments, exhaustion and then loss. I read students’ names at a stadium-sized graduation ceremony soon after a miscarriage.

    It became clear to me over the following months that the stress and lack of flexibility of a senior role would not lend itself to a last chance at a healthy pregnancy. It was a difficult decision to leave, but also one that I had no doubts about once made. Within weeks we were pregnant again, this time successfully so with a beautiful baby girl who is now a year old. It was not an easy pregnancy, and our daughter likely would not be here had I stayed in my role and not been able to rest as much as I did.

    Since her birth, I have launched a higher ed editing and consulting business, resumed teaching part-time, and otherwise adjusted to life as a new mother. For me, leaving higher ed senior leadership was a deliberate choice. I needed more flexibility and control over my own time to be able to care for myself and my child properly. I may or may not return someday to that leadership pathway, and that door may or may not be open to me if I attempt to do so. I’ve learned, however, that to address the question my dissertation asked—Why don’t we have more women in presidencies?—we need to better understand and respond to the many women (and many men and nonbinary folks) who find themselves going through similar family-formation challenges across higher education.

    • First, we need to offer more flexibility—remote work, flexible hours, the option for extended parental leaves for new parents and foster parents.
    • Second, we need to consider not only fully paid leave under the Family and Medical Leave Act for childbirth and parental bonding, but also paid medical benefits for IVF as well as similar support for adoption and fostering.
    • Third, we need to formalize bereavement leave for miscarriage.
    • Fourth, we need to destigmatize the career gap, so that those who leave would have the opportunity to return.
    • Fifth, we need to fairly compensate those who assume the work of colleagues who take FMLA for any care-taking reason.
    • Lastly, we need to change the higher ed culture to one that understands and supports family formation in all its iterations, not just traditional pregnancy with traditional medical leaves.

    I recognize my privilege in being able to leave my job—privilege that enabled me to have a child when so many before me without the same economic resources have not been able to. My situation may seem like an outlier to those who are in their 20s or early 30s or who have had relatively easy and healthy pregnancies. But I’m sure that my story rings true for those who have delayed childbearing for their academic careers and then faced the rigors of IVF, or for people of any age who have faced infertility or more difficult pregnancies. For those LGBTQIA+ and other folks who go through the egg/sperm donation process and IVF and surrogacy. For couples and singles who may adopt or foster and face needs for legal meetings and other child-related time off that institutions do not always provide.

    Higher ed has taught me so much about antiracism, feminism, LGBTQIA+ rights and other inclusive practices. However, higher ed writ large doesn’t offer the kinds of paid leave and flexibility needed for all employees to succeed at both parenting and work.

    Higher ed is losing women with executive leadership potential. The majority of undergraduate and graduate students are women. Yet only 37 percent of full-time faculty are women. Only 33 percent of college presidents are women. Women melt away for a host of reasons. But this former chief academic officer, one step away from a presidency on the career ladder, left the executive pathway because it was the only way I could do so and have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy child.

    As long as higher ed makes having a child versus having an academic career a zero-sum choice for many women, it shouldn’t be a surprise that we still have so few women in senior leadership. When the answer becomes “yes, have both” at institutions across the board is when we might start to see the numbers change.

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  • They can’t count on federal money

    They can’t count on federal money

    ASHE COUNTY, N.C. — In the time it took to read an email, the federal money vanished before Superintendent Eisa Cox’s eyes: dollars that supported the Ashe County school district’s after-school program, training for its teachers, salaries for some jobs. 

    The email from the Department of Education arrived June 30, one day before the money — $1.1 million in total — was set to materialize for the rural western North Carolina district. Instead, the dollars had been frozen pending a review to make sure the money was spent “in accordance with the President’s priorities,” the email said. 

    In a community still recovering from Hurricane Helene, where more than half of students are considered economically disadvantaged, Cox said there was no way they could replace that federal funding. “It is scary to think about it, you’re getting ready to open school and not have a significant pot of funds,” she said.

    School leaders across the country were reeling from the same news. The $1.1 million was one small piece of a nearly $7 billion pot of federal funding for thousands of school districts that the Trump administration froze — money approved by Congress and that schools were scheduled to receive on July 1. For weeks, leaders in Ashe County and around the country scrambled to figure out how they could avoid layoffs and fill financial holes — until the money was freed July 25, after an outcry from legislators and a lawsuit joined by two dozen states.

    “I had teachers crying, staff members crying. They thought they were going to lose their jobs a week before school,” said Curtis Finch, superintendent of Deer Valley Unified School District in Phoenix. 

    About $1.1 million was at stake for the Ashe County school district in western North Carolina this summer when a portion of K-12 schools’ federal funding was frozen. Credit: Ariel Gilreath/The Hechinger Report

    Now, as educators welcome students back to classrooms, they can no longer count on federal dollars as they once did. They must learn to plan without a playbook under a president intent on cutting education spending. For many districts, federal money is a small but crucial sliver of their budgets, potentially touching every part of a school’s operations, from teacher salaries to textbooks. Nationally, it accounts for about 14 percent of public school funding; in Ashe County, it’s 17 percent. School administrators are examining their resources now and budgeting for losses to funding that was frozen this summer, for English learners, after-school and other programs.

    So far, the Trump administration has not proposed cutting the largest pots of federal money for schools, which go to services for students with disabilities and to schools with large numbers of low-income students. But the current budget proposal from the U.S. House of Representatives would do just that. 

    At the same time, forthcoming cuts to other federal support for low-income families under the Republican “one big, beautiful bill” — including Medicaid and SNAP — will also hammer schools that have many students living in poverty. And some school districts are also grappling with the elimination of Department of Education grants announced earlier this year, such as those designed to address teacher shortages and disability services. In politically conservative communities like this one, there’s an added tension for schools that rely on federal money to operate: how to sound the alarm while staying out of partisan politics.

    For Ashe County, the federal spending freeze collided with the district’s attempt at a fresh start after the devastation of Helene, which demolished roads and homes, damaged school buildings and knocked power and cell service out for weeks. Between the storm and snow days, students here missed 47 days of instruction.

    Cox worries this school year might bring more missed days: That first week of school, she found herself counting the number of foggy mornings. An old Appalachian wives’ tale says to put a bean in a jar for every morning of fog in August. The number of beans at the end of the month is how many snow days will come in winter. 

    “We’ve had 21 so far,” Cox said with a nervous laugh on Aug. 21.

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education. 

    Fragrant evergreen trees blanket Ashe County’s hills, a region that bills itself as America’s Christmas Tree Capital because of the millions of Fraser firs grown for sale at the holidays. Yet this picturesque area still shows scars of Hurricane Helene’s destruction: fallen trees, damaged homes and rocky new paths cut through the mountainsides by mudslides. Nearly a year after the storm, the lone grocery store in one of its small towns is still being rebuilt. A sinkhole that formed during the flooding remains, splitting open the ground behind an elementary school.

    Ashe County Schools Superintendent Eisa Cox visits classrooms at Blue Ridge Elementary School during the first week of the school year in Warrensville, N.C. Credit: Ariel Gilreath/The Hechinger Report

    As students walked into classrooms for the first time since spring, Julie Taylor — the district’s director of federal programs — was reworking district budget spreadsheets. When federal funds were frozen, and then unfrozen, her plans and calculations from months prior became meaningless.

    Federal and state funding stretches far in this district of 2,700 students and six schools, where administrators do a lot with a little. Even before this summer, they worked hard to supplement that funding in any way possible — applying to state and federal grants, like one last year that provided money for a few mobile hot spots for families who don’t have internet access. Such opportunities are also narrowing: The Federal Communications Commission, for example, recently proposed ending its mobile hot spot grant program for school buses and libraries. 

    “We’re very fiscally responsible because we have to be — we’re small and rural, we don’t have a large tax base,” Taylor said.

    Related: English learners stopped coming to class during the pandemic. One group is tackling the problem by helping their parents

    When the money was frozen this summer, administrators’ minds went to the educators and kids who would be most affected. Some of it paid for a program through Appalachian State University that connects the district’s three dozen early-career teachers with a mentor, helps them learn how to schedule their school days and manage classroom behavior. 

    The program is part of the reason the district’s retention rate for early career teachers is 92 percent, Taylor said, noting the teachers have said how much the mentoring meant to them. 

    Also frozen: free after-school care the district provides for about 250 children throughout the school year — the only after-school option in the community. Without the money, Cox said, schools would have to cancel their after-school care or start charging families, a significant burden in a county with a median household income of about $50,000.

    Sixth grade students make self-portraits out of construction paper during the first week of the school year at Blue Ridge Elementary School in Warrensville, N.C., in August. Credit: Ariel Gilreath/The Hechinger Report

    The salary for Michelle Pelayo, the district’s migrant education program coordinator for nearly two decades, was also tied up in that pot of funding. Because agriculture is the county’s biggest industry, Pelayo’s work in Ashe County extends far beyond the students at the school. Each year, she works with the families of dozens of migrant students who move to the area for seasonal work on farms, which generally involves tagging and bundling Christmas trees and harvesting pumpkins. Pelayo helps the families enroll their students, connects them with supplies for school and home, and serves as a Spanish translator for parent-teacher meetings — “whatever they need,” she said.

    Kitty Honeycutt, executive director of the Ashe County Chamber of Commerce, doesn’t know how the county’s agriculture industry would survive without the migrant students Pelayo works with. “The need for guest workers is crucial for the agriculture industry — we have to have them,” she said. 

    A couple of years ago, Pelayo had the idea to drive to Boone, North Carolina, where Appalachian State University’s campus sits, to gather unwanted appliances and supplies from students moving out of their dorm rooms at the end of the year to donate to migrant families. She’s a “find a way or make a way” type of person, Honeycutt said. 

    Cox is searching for how to keep Pelayo on if Ashe County loses these federal funds next year. She’s talked with county officials to see if they could pay Pelayo’s salary, and begun calculating how much the district would need to charge families to keep the after-school program running. Ideally, she’d know ahead of time and not the night before the district is set to receive the money. 

    Related: Trump’s cuts to teacher training leave rural districts, aspiring educators in the lurch

    Districts across the country are grappling with similar questions. In Detroit, school leaders are preparing, at a minimum, to lose Title III money to teach English learners. More than 7,200 Detroit students received services funded by Title III in 2023. 

    In Wyoming, the small, rural Sheridan County School District 3 is trying to budget without Title II, IV and V money — funding for improving teacher quality, updating technology and resources for rural and low-income schools, among other uses, Superintendent Chase Christensen said.

    Schools are trying to budget for cuts to other federal programs, too — such as Medicaid and food stamps. In Harrison School District 2, an urban district in Colorado Springs, Colorado, schools rely on Medicaid to provide students with counseling, nursing and other services.

    The district projects that it could lose half the $15 million it receives in Medicaid next school year. 

    “It’s very, very stressful,” said Wendy Birhanzel, superintendent of Harrison School District 2. “For a while, it was every day, you were hearing something different. And you couldn’t even keep up with, ‘What’s the latest information today?’ That’s another thing we told our staff: If you can, just don’t watch the news about education right now.”

    Related: Tracking Trump: His actions on education 

    There’s another calculation for school leaders to make in conservative counties like Ashe, where 72 percent of the vote last year went for President Donald Trump: objecting to the cuts without angering voters. When North Carolina’s attorney general, a Democrat, joined the lawsuit against the administration over the frozen funds this summer, some school administrators told state officials they couldn’t publicly sign on, fearing local backlash, said Jack Hoke, executive director of the North Carolina School Superintendents’ Association.

    Cox sees the effort to slash federal funds as a chance to show her community how Ashe County Schools uses this money. She believes people are misguided in thinking their schools don’t need it, not malicious. 

    “I know who our congresspeople are — I know they care about this area,” Cox said, even if they do not fully grasp how the money is used. “It’s an opportunity for me to educate them.”

    If the Education Department is shuttered — which Trump said he plans to do in order to give more authority over education to states — she wants to be included in state-level discussions for how federal money flows to schools through North Carolina. And, importantly, she wants to know ahead of time what her schools might lose.

    As Cox made her rounds to each of the schools that first week back, she glanced down at her phone and looked up with a smile. “We have hot water,” she said while walking in the hall of Blue Ridge Elementary School. It had lost hot water a few weeks earlier, but to Cox, this crisis was minor — one of many first-of-the-year hiccups she has come to expect. 

    Still, it’s one worry she can put out of her mind as she looks ahead to a year of uncertainties.

    Meanwhile, the anxiety about this school year hasn’t reached the students, who were talking among themselves in the high school’s media center, creating collages in the elementary school’s art class and trekking up to Mount Jefferson — a state park that sits directly behind the district’s two high schools — for an annual trip. 

    They were just excited to be back.  

    Marina Villeneuve contributed data analysis to this story. 

    Contact staff writer Ariel Gilreath on Signal at arielgilreath.46 or at [email protected].

    This story about public school funding was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

    Join us today.

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  • What Ofsted inspections reveal about university leadership and culture

    What Ofsted inspections reveal about university leadership and culture

    The arrival of Ofsted inspections of degree apprenticeships in higher education was never going to be smooth. But what’s become clear is just how underprepared some universities were for the emotional and organisational demands that these inspections bring.

    As part of my doctoral research, I conducted a qualitative study, based on 20 semi-structured interviews with academic and professional services (PS) staff from 19 English universities. What I found reveals more than just overstretched teams or complaints about workload. It tells a story of institutional neglect within a sector where the rhetoric is one of apprenticeships being embraced while quietly sidelining the staff delivering this provision.

    As government policy surrounding apprenticeships, flexible/modular provision, and the growth and skills levy starts to become clearer, the findings act as a warning shot. The issues higher education staff face during Ofsted inspections reflect deeper structural and cultural problems – ones that won’t be solved with another “you’ve got this!” email from the vice chancellor’s office.

    A marginalised provision

    Apprenticeships have always had an awkward status in HE. They’re professionally significant and they can attract noteworthy employer relationships, but they remain institutionally peripheral. As one participant put it, “we’ve never been invited to a senior leader’s meeting to talk about apprenticeships.”

    Almost all academic participants described their apprenticeship work as invisible in workload models and poorly understood by senior leaders. One participant reported that they get “50 hours a year to look after apprenticeships, even though I would consider it to be my full-time role.” Another simply said, “we feel like the poor relation.” PS staff described the work during the Ofsted inspection creating “a permanent status of panic” and detailed 12-hour working days that ran through weekends until they were “running on fumes”. One cancelled a long-planned family holiday. Others reported stress-related illness, insomnia, extended sick leave, and the need for medication.

    The most striking point during many of the interviews wasn’t just the volume of work to support apprenticeship delivery or the Ofsted inspection – it was the sense that senior leaders within their institution didn’t acknowledge it or even care.

    Inspections as emotional events

    There are multiple other accountability mechanisms within HE: the Teaching Excellence Framework, the Office for Students’ conditions of registration, the Quality Assurance Agency, the Department for Education apprenticeship accountability framework, and professional accreditation processes. This results in a complex and multi-agency system of regulation and scrutiny. However, among participants, Ofsted inspections weren’t experienced as just another audit or review. They were felt as emotional, personal, a question of professional competence, and in many cases traumatic.

    The anticipation alone triggered stress symptoms and anxiety. One PS participant said:

    Before the inspection started, I was terrified because I was going to be representing my university. What if I get it wrong? I kept feeling sick.

    Another participant feared that the inspection outcome, if unsuccessful, could undermine years of hard work and this loss of control and emotional volatility left them feeling depleted and unwilling to experience an Ofsted inspection again:

    I cannot be here in five years’ time. I’m not going through that again. I had some stress symptoms which didn’t let up for six to eight months.

    Teaching staff viewed the inspection as a test of professional credibility and the emotional toll was compounded by the expectation to present calm professionalism: “I spent time telling everyone to be careful and not let your guard down” while managing their own fears and “the impending pit of doom” and those of their colleagues. Another said: “I was really worried about my colleague being pulled into an observation with an inspector. Her practice is wonderful, but she would have fallen apart. I wanted to protect her wellbeing.”

    The need to “perform professionalism” while internally unravelling created a specific kind of emotional labour which was often invisible to those in leadership roles. It was obvious that participants weren’t just preparing evidence: they were absorbing institutional risk. In doing so, they became the shock absorbers for their university’s unpreparedness.

    The problem isn’t Ofsted, it’s us

    One might assume the findings are a critique of Ofsted. In fact, most participants described the inspectors as “courteous”, “professional”, “kind”, “amazing” or “approachable”. The frustration wasn’t aimed at the inspectors; it was aimed at the system.

    One problem was the mismatch between Ofsted’s frameworks and the reality of delivering apprenticeships in higher education. Teaching staff spoke of “squeezing your programme, pedagogy, everything into an arbitrary box” that didn’t reflect their practice. Others questioned why Ofsted couldn’t operate more like consultants, “sharing best practice and providing exemplars” rather than simply evaluating.

    While almost all participants described inspectors as courteous and supportive, they also expressed concerns about the disempowering effects of inspection dynamics. One noted

    The power dynamic is… ‘If we don’t think you’re good enough, we’re going to close you down’. There are other regulatory bodies that don’t have the ability to put people out of jobs. It’s crazy.

    That perception of existential risk was heightened because many institutions appeared to have no clear inspection plan. No training. No joined-up strategy. “We only got Ofsted training two days before the inspection,” said one participant. Others had to “design and deliver” their own training from scratch “without any support” from their leadership which meant it was difficult to get people to engage with it.

    Teaching staff shared their views that traditional academic CPD (such as research outputs and pedagogic innovation) continues to be prioritised over compliance-linked work like Ofsted inspections, despite the institutional reputational risks:

    If any of us wanted to go off to London to present a research paper, we would have accommodation paid for us, we’d be able to go to that conference, no problem. But if we ask for £150 worth of CPD on how to improve apprenticeship delivery it wouldn’t be allowed. It’s not a business priority.

    Not malicious, just indifferent

    Overall, my research tells a story about institutional neglect. Unlike toxic leadership or micro-management, this form of harm is quieter. It’s not what leaders do; it’s what they fail to do. It’s the absence of engagement and the unwillingness to fund training. Most importantly, it’s the lack of psychological safety during a high-pressured event like an Ofsted inspection. As one participant said, “when the Ofsted inspectors came in, it was really hard to listen to senior leaders talking about how much they support staff… the reality is very different.”

    This isn’t about bad management, it’s about structural marginalisation. Apprenticeship provision was described as falling outside the strategic priorities of some institutions and their senior leaders were perceived as having “no awareness, no understanding” and that they “don’t particularly care about apprenticeships”. Research, undergraduate teaching, and the TEF occupied the centre of institutional gravity. Apprenticeships did not.

    Some participants said they almost wished for a “requires improvement” judgement just to get leadership to take them seriously. One observed:

    I had hoped that we would get ‘requires improvement’ because it would have made senior leadership pay attention to the changes we need to make. Senior staff have this sense of complacency as if the ‘good’ rating shows that we’re fine.

    The government is watching

    With this government promising a reshaping of apprenticeships and skills, and the growth and skills levy pushing modular/skills learning into new territory, the pressures experienced in apprenticeship provision in HE are likely to spread. Inspection and regulation in this space aren’t going away. Nor should they. But my findings suggest the real threat to quality and staff wellbeing is not external scrutiny, it’s internal culture.

    The risks here are reputational and ethical. Strategic responsibility for inspection readiness and staff wellbeing needs to sit at the top table, not with the most overworked and marginalised staff in the room. Here are five things that universities should do, right now:

    Stop marginalising apprenticeship teams. If universities are serious about their current apprenticeship provision and the imminent skills/flexible learning opportunities coming our way, the teams supporting these activities must be embedded into institutional strategy, not treated as marginalised, compliance-heavy provision.

    Build inspection readiness into annual planning, not panic-mode two days before the inspection starts.

    Invest in meaningful CPD for apprenticeships, including training on inspection frameworks, evidence expectations, managing emotional load during inspection periods, and conference attendance for the skills and apprenticeships agenda.

    Create psychological safety. No one should feel personally responsible for the entire institution’s regulatory fate.

    Use governance structures to ask hard questions. Boards and Senates should demand answers: how are we resourcing our skills and apprenticeship provision? What preparations do we have in place for the new skills/modular provision that will inevitably be inspected? Does leadership in schools/faculties understand their skills and apprenticeships provision fully? Do all colleagues get equal access to relevant CPD to do their job effectively?

    Ofsted didn’t bring stress into higher education; it just exposed a stretched system and the fragility of institutional operations and governance which relies on invisible labour.

    With the introduction of the growth and skills levy and a significant shift toward modular and flexible provision, the emotional and operational burdens seen in apprenticeship delivery and Ofsted inspections risk being replicated at scale unless universities adapt. When senior leaders are thinking about the structures and metrics for expanding into new opportunities such as modular/skills provision, they also need to carefully consider culture, responsibility, support, and compassionate leadership.

    If they replicate the same dynamics – underfunded, misunderstood, marginalised, and shouldered by isolated staff – universities risk institutionalising burnout and anxiety as conditions of participation in apprenticeships and skills.

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  • Defining Leadership – CUPA-HR

    Defining Leadership – CUPA-HR

    CUPA-HR’s
    Definition of Leadership

    Defining Leadership

    In 2025, CUPA-HR has expanded its focus on leadership development. To better understand what we mean by this, CUPA-HR staff engaged in an inclusive and iterative process with over 200 CUPA-HR members across multiple programs, committees, boards and councils to explore different experiences of leadership. The result of this process is a definition that reflects a shared understanding of leadership as a practice rooted in relationships, purpose and impact. The definition is also reflective of CUPA-HR’s values and will guide leadership development efforts moving forward.

    Leadership is guiding others to achieve outcomes through collaborative relationships.

    Although the definition offers a holistic look at leadership, it is grounded in three distinct elements shaped by CUPA-HR member and staff input.

    • Leadership is “guiding others.” Through a range of styles, higher ed HR leaders support and inspire others to grow, contribute and succeed. This guidance is rooted in intentionality, influence, modeling behavior, building trust, and inspiring action toward shared goals. In higher ed HR, guiding can happen from any role, regardless of title.
    • Leadership is about “accomplishing outcomes” by aligning people’s work with institutional goals, building shared purpose, and driving meaningful progress through strategic action, accountability and a commitment to professional growth.
    • Leadership happens through “collaborative relationships” built on trust. These relationships create inclusive communities where individuals feel valued, supported and inspired to contribute toward common goals.

    This shared definition of leadership will serve as a foundation for CUPA-HR’s ongoing and future efforts. It will guide our multi-year leadership development strategy, inform the design of leadership development programs and resources, and shape how we communicate about leadership. From refining event tracks and storytelling in our communications, to supporting chapters and aligning with our Learning Framework, this definition will be a touchstone for our work, ensuring that leadership development remains grounded in the voices, values and aspirations of our community. See additional context for the leadership definition and questions for reflecting on how it applies to your work.

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  • Higher Education Leadership in Times of Crisis Part II – Edu Alliance Journal

    Higher Education Leadership in Times of Crisis Part II – Edu Alliance Journal

    By Dr. Barry Ryan, September 15, 2025 – In my August 11th article titled ‘Higher Education Leadership in Times of Crisis,” we established that higher education leadership today cannot be solitary work and that effective crisis response requires both internal and external counsel. Now that you’ve assembled (at least thought through) your cast of trusted advisors and recognized the unique leadership demands of your situation, the next critical step is understanding what you’re actually facing—and how to navigate it successfully. Once you recognize that your organization may be entering such a time, there are three key initial questions to ask:

    1. How long can a crisis be expected to last?
    2. What are the effects of crisis on my institution, on my team, on my loved ones, and on me?
    3. What are some healthy and effective ways I can lead during crisis?

    First, how long should I expect a “typical” crisis to last?

    At first blush, it might seem a little silly to ask how long a crisis lasts. After all, isn’t that inherently unpredictable?

    The answer is “yes” and “no.” It may seem a little flippant to say, but the reality is that the length of a crisis depends to a certain degree on how you and those in leadership alongside you respond to it. Your approach and actions may make it longer or shorter than it would have been. Here’s what I mean.

    Ignoring a crisis and hoping that it blows over is actually a potential strategy—although not one that I would recommend in most circumstances. But there are some built-in roadblocks in a university’s life cycle, which is divided largely into annual, semester, or quarter segments. These can act, on their own, as speed bumps or detours that might diminish or change the course of a crisis.  

    For example, a crisis that is being instigated or aggravated by certain individuals might be relieved to some degree on its own by their departure through retirement, transfer, and so on.  Or a financial crisis might be alleviated by the structural limits on certain types of debt that will be paid off, or the inception of certain grants or gifts that are within sight. But these are, unfortunately, uncommon scenarios, and the timing may be unpredictable.

    On a global scale, one might think of Winston Churchill trying to imagine how long World War II might last. As futile as such a task might have been, he did, indeed, play out various scenarios and their likely duration. Although it makes for a great quote and probably captures an important aspect of Churchill’s thinking, he likely did not say, “When you’re going through hell, keep going.” But that’s a good reminder for anyone in crisis.

    To grossly generalize, I have found that most institutional crises last between six months and two years. Why is that? The more acute ones require quicker action, and the result is either a solution that addresses the issues promptly and efficiently, in, say, six months, and you can move on to other things. Or, failing to find a speedy solution may end with you moving on. (And I don’t mean this lightly, but the reality is that moving on is not the end of the world.)

    Why the two-year time frame, on the other end? Because I’ve found that to be about the maximum time frame that a board, or an accreditor, or a creditor, or even a faculty can endure before a solution is reached. Again, the conclusion of the crisis will either leave you in a happier and stronger position in your institution or leave you seeking happiness and a better position somewhere else. But somewhere between six months and two years is what I have found to be the rough lifespan of an intense crisis. (This is barring, of course, a truly existential crisis as a result of which the institution ceases to exist in its current form. But even that drastic of an outcome can easily take two years or more to unfold.)

    Second, what are some of the common effects, and how do you survive them?

    For the sake of argument, let’s say you become aware that you are entering a crisis period, whether or not it eventually proves to be an existential one. How do you survive in the intervening six months to two years?

    Let’s begin with the effects of a continuing crisis on a leader. The crisis can easily become an enormous distraction for someone who already has too much on their plate. The stress that comes with leadership increases in crisis times, with mental, emotional, and even physical effects. Exhaustion can become a daily (and nightly) companion.  Self-doubt creeps in and steals even more of the leader’s resources.

    It sounds trite, but when this happens, don’t forget to take a few deep breaths – physically and metaphorically. 

    Draw up a “non-crisis” item list, i.e., things that still need to be done, but aren’t necessarily at the crisis point. Now start divvying them up between and among your fellow leaders, and to their direct reports when possible. This could be an opportune time to help them grow and develop, as well as ease your load.

    Along with that, begin to excuse yourself from meetings at which your presence is not absolutely necessary. Only you really know which are and which aren’t. You may still need to attend to some that aren’t technically necessary, but that may prove helpful in crisis-related activities. Again, having trusted substitutes sit in for you for a while can be a growth opportunity for them, and also demonstrate that you trust and empower those with whom you work. When it comes to meetings, which can serve to drain you even more, perhaps adopt a practice of only making limited strategic appearances. Make your participation relevant enough and just long enough to establish your presence and help you – and your colleagues – feel like you’re staying in touch.

    Don’t forget to take some days off, or even vacations. Sad but true, don’t make them too long or too far away or somewhere too difficult for you to be reached. You’re probably not really going to relax completely anyway, but you should at least experience some benefit from a change in perspective and place. Frankly, you would do well to consider the health and happiness of your loved ones who’ve been going through this with you, and that they need a break, perhaps even more than you do. After all, you are able to face the crisis more directly, as well as possible enemies, while your loved ones have to suffer vicariously and without the same ability to engage.

    Third, how to lead during a crisis?

    There is no question that crises have deleterious effects on you, your friends and family, but also your colleagues. You undoubtedly have support and supporters (even though they may seem distant), so don’t neglect them. Their fidelity to the institution and its mission – and you – deserves appreciation and acknowledgement, even if only expressed privately. They’re worried about the institution, but also their livelihood and their colleagues as well. 

    When they see you, try not to be the deer in the headlights (a situation that doesn’t usually end well in the wild). Appearing indecisive is uninspiring. But so is being overbearing or angry.

    Try to be yourself as you were before the crisis. Remember to smile, relax the muscles of your face and neck, and ask them about their loved ones, their teaching, or their research. Be human. The thoughtful ones have an idea about what you’re feeling and going through, so it’s okay for them to see you as a human. You don’t have to adopt a fake effervescence, but you should avoid moping.

    Seek impartial counsel. That may, or may not, include colleagues. A small group of confidants is necessary. External friends who have the courage to be honest with you, and also keep complete confidence, can be your best resource to help you gain and keep perspective. They may have higher ed experience, but not necessarily. I have always found that the best counsel comes from folks who have had real challenges, real losses, survived real attacks, and still kept their heads about them. Ones that are “too perfect” are probably not what you need at this point.

    While there is a need for you to seek and obtain trustworthy counsel, you should at the same time try to avoid seeking too much counsel. Bottom line is that you’re a leader and you’re going to have to make difficult decisions. So you should accept counsel, but too much can be confusing and even overwhelming. 

    Look, you’re in a tough position and no matter what you do, some people (possibly including some people you respect and care about) are not going to be thrilled. Sad but true. And some of those feelings may change over time, as they come to a fuller perspective as well.

    My advice to leaders in crisis situations always includes two elements:

    Can you make a decision that allows you to look at yourself in the mirror? 

    Then do what you believe is right and let the chips fall where they may. Period.

    While you are a leader in a profession you may (or may not any longer) dearly love, there IS an “after.”  That may mean continuing in your post-crisis position in the same post-crisis institution, or it may mean more significant changes for you.  If so, take what you’ve learned along to whatever comes next.  Partings are rarely enjoyable, but I recall a very thoughtful young person we had to let go.  His response was remarkable.  “I want to learn from this experience and become better as a result.” When I saw him at another institution a year later, he came up to me and said that’s exactly what had transpired and that he was grateful.

    Your life, and your legacy, are much more than just this current time of crisis within this current institution. Be grateful to those who have earned that gratitude, and remember who you are.

    Dr. Barry Ryan is a seasoned higher education executive, legal scholar, and former president of five universities. He is a senior consultant for the Edu Alliance Group and a legal scholar. With more than 25 years of leadership experience, Dr. Ryan has served in numerous roles, including faculty member, department chair, dean, vice president, provost, and chief of staff at state, non-profit, and for-profit universities and law schools. His extensive accreditation experience includes two terms on the WASC Senior College and University Commission (WSCUC), serving a maximum of six years. He is widely recognized for his expertise in governance, accreditation, crisis management, and institutional renewal.

    In addition to his academic career, Dr. Ryan ​ served as the Supreme Court Fellow in the chambers of Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist and is a​ member of numerous federal and state bars. He has contributed extensively to charitable organizations and is experienced in board leadership and large-scale fundraising. He remains a trusted advisor to universities and boards seeking strategic alignment and transformation.

    He earned his Ph.D. from the University of California, Santa Barbara, his J.D. from the University of​ California, Berkeley, and his Dipl.GB in international business from the University of Oxford.

    Edu Alliance Group, Inc. (EAG), founded in 2014, is an education consulting firm located in Bloomington, Indiana, and Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. We assist higher education institutions worldwide on a variety of mission-critical projects. Our consultants are accomplished leaders who use their experience to diagnose and solve challenges.

    EAG has provided consulting and executive search services for over 40 higher education institutions in Australia, Egypt, Georgia, India, Kazakhstan, Morocco, Nigeria, Uganda, the United Arab Emirates, and the United States.

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